So the point of this was supposed to be the gilded cage rodop stuff but I think I've sorta fucked it by writing it backwards and I. Do Not have a follow up plot after the rescue lol. You can close your eyes and imagine the angsty parts and/or Megatron going 'wtf is this' yourself I guess.
“What's going on?” Rodimus whispered, blue optics shining frightened in the dark.
“I don't know,” Orion murmured back. Silken covers and the light clinking of chains shifted as they clung to each other in the Primal berth, listening to sounds drifting up from below that couldn't be good. Sentinel sometimes carried out executions, but they never sounded like this. They never sounded at all, high up here in his personal, golden tower, where the True-Chosen Prime had been chained and kept, and, recently, joined by another.
Orion had been pulled from the docks; Hot Rod dragged off the streets. Both into Sentinel's berth, where they now listened, fearful, to the sounds of cries and crashes from below.
“Primus.” Rodimus shivered and huddled closer, his in-built warmth chasing off the frigid air of the place that had otherwise never seemed to be able to adequately heat to Sentinel's liking, adding to their master's irritable temper.
“Do you think it's those – hm – Decept – icons?” Orion asked. Both of them knew precious little of the outside world since their 'ascensions', but Sentinel was one to rant when things weren't going his way, and Hot Rod had been taken later, when rumblings of Megatron's revolution were all but out in the open, and had been able to back-fill Orion with the knowledge a lowly Nyonian guttermech had to offer. Rodimus shrugged, spoiler flicking nervously, wincing as a particularly piercing scream split the air through the open window – Sentinel had lived utterly convinced of his own immortality, and thus, assassination concerns were not ones such as he had to purvey. Perhaps he was now finding out just how mortal he was, Orion thought darkly.
“It's pronounced Decepticons. And yeah, who else?” Rodimus replied with an expressive shrug. “So we're screwed, right?”
Orion chuffed a little at that, Rodimus trying to keep a cheery and positive tone despite his words. “Perhaps they won't shoot immediately, if they see we are also his prisoners...”
Rodimus grimaced, clearly not liking those odds, but what else was there to do? Neither of them were particularly accomplished fighters, Matrix-granted frame upgrades or no. There was a difference between surviving day-to-day in modern Cybertron as anyone other than the elite one percent, and a full-blown battlefield.
The door rattled, causing both of them to jump. They glanced at each other; time up.
“Well,” Orion said, moving to stand, Rodimus' hand still grasping his, “I think after all I'd rather die on my fee-”
He was half-turned to the bed, ready to help his friend stand up rather than cower under the sheets – the mockingly thin chains had enough slack for general movement, Rodimus more than once fantasising about strangling Sentinel with them – when there was a small, controlled explosion over the door lock. Smoke wafted in as Orion immediately turned face the door, using his body to shield Rodimus, who stuck his head out around anyway to see what was happening.
“Easy,” a voice called out from beyond the smoke. “We ain't here to kill ya, Sounders says you're friendlies.”
Orion blinked as Rodimus tensed up. Then he blinked again, because he knew that voice, and he knew the mech who poked his head out of the smoke; dark helmet, blue visor.
“Jazz?”
“Orion?! Slag me, Sounders, you coulda told me!” Jazz rushed forward to stand in front of his old friend, hardly able to believe it. “Slaggin' – wow – thought you were dead, mech – oh, hey,” Jazz looked down at Rodimus as another mech entered the room, big and boxy. “You got a friend?”
“Hi,” Rodimus said, warily eyeing the two new mechs. “Name's Rodimus. Please don't kill us.”
“Soundwave: Sensed presence of sparks,” the boxy mech, a carrier model from the look of the dock on his chassis, announced as the chains on Orion's wrists fell away after Jazz had mere seconds with them. “Sensed fear, determination. Overwhelming light.”
“Okay,” Rodimus nodded along, fighting to keep off the horrible blank smile he'd had for clients (and later Sentinel) while he just zoned out and let them do whatever. Instead, he held out his wrists for Jazz, who had the chains off so fast Rodimus couldn't even get a look at his technique. Orion helped him up, and he only wobbled slightly.
“I'm fine!” he said loudly, but clung to Orion's side all the same. “So what now? We get to leave?”
“Best stay here for now. Don't want you getting mistaken for Sentinel's stooges,” Jazz decided, hands on his hips as he assessed the rest of the room and dismissed the opulent splendour as unimportant junk.
“Query,” Soundwave asked, also looking around the gaudy room. “Location of Matrix of Leadership?”
“Uhh.” Rodimus and Orion shared a Look, but at this point, Roddy figured there was little point in trying to lie his way out. “They couldn't get it outta me,” he admitted, cheeks flushing under the sudden intense attention. It wasn't like he'd ever actually wanted the thing in his chest! “So, uh, I'd appreciate Megs not ripping it out?”
Jazz and Soundwave both stared at him.
“Right. Rodimus. Makes sense.” Jazz recovered first. “I'll comm Prowler. Between him and Sounders, should be enough to keep him at bay. Can y'walk?” As if to demonstrate, Soundwave started to move, heading to Sentinel's huge desk; a treasure trove of information awaited for anyone with the skills to access it. Which he promptly did, blowing past three layers of security and disabling a self-detonation sequence as he plugged in to the system Sentinel had controlled Cybertron and her distant colonies from.
“I.” Rodimus put one hesitant foot out, tested his weight. “Don't know. It's been a while!” He defended from Orion's pity and Jazz's inscrutable visor.
“'Aight, you're not that much bigger than me, c'mere.” Jazz offered, but Rodimus only clung harder to Orion at his approach.
“Ah.” Orion swung his body to put himself between Rodimus and Jazz. “I request, ah, please do not. Um. We will manage.” Rodimus buried his head into Orion's shoulder.
“Sorry,” the younger Prime muttered. “Stupid. I'm being stupid.” Even so, he kept to his position, letting the warm humming of Orion's systems ground him as they so often had before.
“Hey, we've got time.” Jazz held his hands up placatingly. “Sounders, how're you doin'?”
Soundwave did not look up from where he was hunched over the console; his visor was lit up with data scrolling incomprehensibly fast to anyone not well acquainted with Soundwave's line of work.
“Gotcha.” Jazz stood back, hands on his hips as he looked around the room again, wondering if Megatron would claim any of it or simply blow it all to the Pit. He knew which way he'd bet. “Guess we're chilling here for a minute. I can put on some tunes if-” the floor underneath them rocked from an explosion stories below. “It ain't gonna trigger anythin'.”
“I don't believe so, Sentinel was not one for music,” Orion hedged, gauging Rodimus' body language. No visible reaction and no protest. Jazz nodded, and light, airy strings from the Vosnian Orchestra began to softly permeate the room; a trade he'd gotten from Thundercracker in exchange for some choice illegal novels filched from the Polyhexian archives before they'd been raided. Jazz edged towards the bed; Orion nodded, keeping Rodimus upright as Jazz thought better of flopping onto the berth, however tempting, and instead sat carefully down at the edge of it.
“So.” Jazz looked over to them, visor honing in on Orion. “You're alive. And Sentinel's been keeping you in his berth?”
“Objective complete,” Soundwave announced, unplugging himself and jogging lightly towards them. “Prepare for controlled detonation in t-minus three – two – one -”
The console went up in a burst of near-silent flame. Rodimus craned his head around Orion's frame to stare at it as Jazz and Soundwave exchanged quick updates.
“Everything necessary in this room, acquired,” Soundwave said. “Medical escort, required?” He addressed the two Primes, Rodimus still mesmerised by the quietly roaring fire as plumes of smoke and ash rose to the gilded ceiling.
“No need to ask on that one, I think.” Jazz groaned and stood up, clicking off the music as he stretched. “Prowl's only gone and told Ratchet.”
“Suggestion: at least get to ground level. Ambulance alt mode, unmanouverable in current location.”
“Don't say that to his face, he'll take it as a challenge,” Jazz warned, while Orion reeled. Ratchet? Ratchet, here? Working with Megatron?
“Easy, big guy.” Jazz reached out, glanced down at Rodimus and thought better of patting Orion's shoulder, placing his hand uncertainly at his side instead. “Yeah. Buncha us – Prowler, Ratchet – Ironhide took some convincin', an' I was halfway there already, to be honest. An' it turns out Elita's slaggin' scary when you let her loose.”
“I, I see. Thank you, all of you.” They were here, they were here. How often had Sentinel hung their lives over his head? Before his attention had turned fully to Rodimus, when there was just Orion, Sentinel had been at least a little hesitant in directly harming a Matrix-chosen Prime. Instead, he'd had other means to keep Orion in line.
“Skywarp claims he is 'busy',” Soundwave postponed any emotional fallout, somehow pronouncing the airquotes without changing his vocal inflection. “Rest of airforce currently engaged. We will have to walk.”
“I still can't believe you guys have a teleporter. And that your teleporter is fraggin' useless. Prowler'd be running this joint five centuries ago if he'd had half of your mechs to hand,” Jazz teased, lightening the mood of the room. “You guys good?” He addressed the two Primes, snapping Rodimus out from his haze.
“Sorry about that. Turns out I'm more traumatised than I thought.” Rodimus grimaced, scrunched his face up, then boldly let go of Orion to take a step forward under his own power.
He did not clatter over immediately, which was encouraging. Soundwave gave an approving, musical hum. One step. Then two.
Okay, Rodimus thought. He could totally do this.
